


Plans for the Evening

by significantowl



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: (a happy future), F/M, Foggy Nelson (Cameo) - Freeform, crime-fighting shenanigans, set vaguely somewhere in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 16:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16957614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/significantowl/pseuds/significantowl
Summary: An open bar, a dance floor, a foiled art heist - just another Saturday night.





	Plans for the Evening

**Author's Note:**

> Written for trashywestallen on tumblr as part of the 2017 MattElektra Secret Santa exchange. Check out the beautiful accompanying graphic created by fadedtoblue - you can find it [here](http://significantowl.tumblr.com/post/169086695334/happy-mattelektrasecretsanta-trashywestallen)!

_Saturday, 6:18pm_

“Uh, Matt? It’s for you.”

“I thought it might be.” Matt got to his feet and crossed Foggy’s living room, skirting the inflatable Christmas cactus with chili pepper lights Foggy had installed near the window. All his favorite people were prickly, Foggy had said when Matt had first run his hands over the thing, and Matt had hmphed and found himself with no actual counter argument.

Elektra stood in Foggy’s doorway, bringing with her the scent of lilies and cool, wintry musk. He’d smelled her before she even stepped off the elevator. “Hello, Matthew,” she said.

“Elektra.”

“Hi, Foggy!” Foggy said pointedly a beat later, cocking his head to one side. Tipping it the other way, he said, “Well, hello to you too, Elektra. I don’t remember ever giving you my address.”

Elektra made an impatient noise. “Shouldn’t you be getting dressed, Franklin? Don’t you have plans for the evening?”

“I _am_ dressed, Elektra. These are clothes you see on my body.” Foggy tugged demonstrably at the cuffs of his suit jacket. Elektra was well-informed; Matt had been waiting for Foggy to finish getting all fancied up (his words) for a night out - Marci had tickets to some sold-out show or another - before taking the elevator down with him. Then Matt was going to head back to his own apartment after a pit stop at the Vietnamese place down the block. There was a large pho ga with his name on it.

But it was starting to look like Matt had plans for the evening that didn't include take-out.

“Tell Matthew what I’m wearing then, Franklin. Describe it. Since you’re a sartorial expert now.”

Jabbing a finger at Elektra, Foggy said, “ _That_ sounds like the prologue to a threesome, and a threesome is _not_ on my agenda tonight. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Ah, well, I’m getting most of it,” Matt said, and - feeling certain Elektra was watching - lightly touched a spot on his thigh corresponding to the slit he could sense in the front of her dress. “I’d love to know the color, though.”

Foggy sighed. “It’s red. Ruby red. Looks like she’s got rubies dangling from her ears, too.”

“Oh yeah?”

Matt’s face must have gone soft; Foggy said, “Get out of here, you weird, violent saps,” and Matt felt himself smile stupidly wide. 

“We’re going, we’re going,” he said. Then, to Elektra: “I assume your carriage awaits?”

 

_7:04pm_

They hadn’t been able to leave immediately. Matt's jeans and button-down had been deemed unacceptable, but of course Elektra had come well-prepared. Foggy had sighed and said, “I’m glad it’s a penguin suit, and not the other kind of suit - well - at least I think I am. Remember, buddy, that shit ain’t kevlar, and blood is a nightmare to get out of wool.”

“Noted,” Matt had said, while Elektra fixed his tie.

What Elektra had in mind, Matt learned, was an after-hours exhibit opening at a museum uptown. It was to be exquisitely catered, with an open bar staffed by the bartenders of some place so exclusive Matt had never heard of it. There would be live music, a dance floor, and of course, art.

“You arranged those tickets for Marci, didn't you?” Matt asked, and Elektra hummed.

They were sitting close in the back of a limo. It rolled on for another few blocks while Matt's fingers tapped against his knee in time with the rhythm of Elektra’s heartbeat. There was something she wasn't telling him; finally, he said, “And?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention the crooked art dealer who _intends_ on stealing a rare artifact tonight? Bankrupting not only the museum, but also its arts charity for underprivileged children? He just happens to consider himself a black belt, too. Merry Christmas,” Elektra said, patting Matt’s leg. “Don’t I know just what to get you?”

 

_8:48pm_

Matt hadn't particularly expected to enjoy his exquisitely catered meal any more nor less than the pho he'd abandoned back in Foggy's neighborhood. He'd been proven wrong, and didn't mind in the slightest - Elektra had an amazing way of making that happen - and was currently savoring each and every bite of dessert before it was gone for good.

“I can see how much you love that torte,” Elektra said. Her fingers brushed his jaw, which - no point in denying it - had gone slightly slack as he chewed. “Just imagine if I were hand feeding it to you in bed.”

“Mm.” Matt swallowed. “Want to hand feed it to me right here?” He let his fork slip through his fingers, and hit the ground with a cheery little ping. 

“Shameless, Matthew, shameless.” Elektra’s voice was warm with approval as she cut off a bite and settled it between her fingers, then nudged it to his lips.

Flavor burst on his tongue: deep, pure chocolate, and the freshest, sun-kissed strawberry jam. _You taught me well,_ his mouth was too full to say, but he sucked gently at her fingertips before she pulled them away, and they both knew it meant the same thing.

 

_10:24pm_

“But were you an art lover as a child? Or some time - earlier in life?” the woman asked. Her head bobbed on her neck as she looked Matt up and down in confusion, while her waterfall earrings clashed and clanged like a tiny, out-of-tune bell choir.

“I'm an art lover now,” Matt replied, his tone adding, _obviously_. He aimed a bland smile at her before taking a sip of the latest cocktail Elektra had ordered for him. Cinnamon Sin. He’d assumed she was just having fun with the name - amusement had certainly swirled in her voice throughout the conversation with the bartender - but it was proving to be a rare and wonderful thing: a mixed drink where all the parts actually complemented each other, instead of making him wish he could pour it out and drink liquor straight from the bottle instead.

“Of course - of course you are - but -”

“I can assure you, my husband knows how to appreciate art,” Elektra said. On cue, Matt skimmed his palm over the curve of her hip and up her side, then touched his fingertips gently, reverently to her neck. 

“My wife makes it easy, as I'm sure you can see,” Matt said, then punctuated his words with a lingering kiss.

 _Husband._ She’d enjoyed saying that, too, just as much as _Cinnamon Sin,_ but in a different way; he’d heard currents of fascination, of possession, of desire. Matt had liked _wife,_ too. Just like the drink, it had been a surprise on his tongue, but one tinged with delight.

Maybe one of these nights, her plans for them would include a priest and a church and two rings.

Or maybe his would. Maybe it would be soon.

“Remind me how you feel about collateral damage, darling?” Elektra asked. It prompted a small, confused noise from the woman, and another out-of-tune chorus from her bobbing earrings.

“Oh, do whatever you have to do, sweetheart,” Matt said. From the woman’s sudden accelerated heartbeat, he assumed Elektra was treating her to a vicious smile. “I'm sure I won't see a thing.” 

 

_11:45pm_

For once, it wasn't Matt who put out the lights. Instead it was the villain of the piece, who'd come prepared for his evening of theft with some kind of night-vision goggles.

“Yeah, those are coming off,” Matt said, before landing the kind of punch designed to make that happen.

It was a very nice fight. Good highs, good lows; the guy was skilled, although not quite as good as he seemed to think he was. Good enough, however, that Matt could really take pleasure from digging into his bag of tricks to keep the guy on his toes.

They'd trailed the guy to an out-of-the-way gallery, making it through the security doors just before the asshole had flipped a switch somewhere and sealed the wing off behind himself. For now, if not for much longer, they were alone with their new friend. Matt forced the guy’s hands behind his back - a little sooner than he would have liked, honestly - and Elektra danced over and ripped off his burglar's gloves. She lifted the Etruscan statue from his jacket pocket, and in the moment that Matt let his hands go, said, “You break it, you buy it,” and tossed it through the air.

The thief caught it, all bare hands and fingerprints. Matt was honestly impressed at the move, particularly coming from a sighted person, since he couldn't hear the hiss of even one single emergency light in the room.

“Tie this asshole up,” Matt said.

“Delighted to,” Elektra said, fishing a length of cord from the pocket of Matt’s tux and wrapping it tightly around the guy’s wrists. Then she paused, adding, “As long as he's not the only one I get to tie up tonight.”

“That depends,” Matt said, “on whether or not you’ve saved enough rope for me.”

 

_Sunday, 12:01am_

According to Elektra, authorities were boring, and their questions were tiring. Matt had to agree that there was a much better alternative. 

They ran.

As it so often did, running meant rooftops. “You know there's blood on your shoes,” Elektra called as they skirted a skylight, both careful to keep far enough away from the glass not to risk being spotted from below. “And your coat. Franklin was right, that'll be murder to clean. Why don’t you leave them behind?”

“There's DNA on them too,” Matt pointed out, cold air stinging his lungs. “Think I'll skip playing vigilante Cinderella tonight. It's not a fun party game.” 

“Maybe not, but Pin the Vigilante to the Headboard is.”

When Elektra was right, she was right. Laughing, Matt caught Elektra by the hand, and together they disappeared into the night.


End file.
